Catawba
by Lavenderpaw
Summary: Ratatouille two! A special sequel for the rat chef's favorite brother.
1. The rescue of Winona: Pt 1 of 2

**I. **_Three months after the opening of La Ratatouille… _

Emile used light green garnishes - as most everyone did at his brother's restaurant - to do food traffic control duty. It was nearly closing time and the large brown rat had resignedly settled into his demotion. But that was all right, he was used to this. In fact, he sometimes he looked forward to Remi's casting him off of the main production line of 'Special Order' cuisine. Food traffic control meant he got to be closer to his favorite food - the fruit vault.

"Try not to drop those grapes!" His close friend Leonard called out as he used his own set of garnishes to motion a large crate of rejected grapes out. "They're Catawba. You know, one of those flavorless types. If its not from a liquidated cheese factory that we get useless shipments from, it's from a low - income tavern. Looks like the economy's hittin' us too."

"Uh, uh, Lenny." Emile beseeched to him quickly.

"Not now, E," the slim but short gray rat told him, eyeing the rat - carried crate intently.

"You said that's, uh, Catawba right?"

Leonard eyed him suspiciously. "Yeah. Nastiest stuff I ever tasted."

"Well," Emile laughed nervously, grimacing as his friends climbed up a pile of over turned boxes and emptied the grapes into a waste disposal container beside three recycle bins. "I was just thinking, you know… Catawba is an _acquired _taste and well, I have acquired…"

The rat suddenly laughed out loud; quickly garnering the attention of his fellow rats.

"Hey, guys, guess what! Emile wants us to give him the Catawba!"

They all paused from their respective food prepping, turned to look at one another briefly and busted out into laughter. The brown rat chuckled along half - heartedly as Leonard let him have a sympathetic pat on the back. "Like we don't know what happens Emile. Heh."

"But, I - ,"

"Just keep your shift goin' and _try _not to think about food too much. In case Remi…"

He let his sentence trail as he went to work guiding out the next crate of throwaway food that would not and would never be considered good enough to be served at Chief Remi's _La Ratatouille. _Emile sighed a quietest of sighs and was about to return to his devotional demotion of keeping foot traffic at an operational pace when he noticed a reddish - purple grape rolling towards a slight opening in the back door. _'Catawba,' _He thought horridly.

To be continued…

~Lavenderpaw~


	2. The rescue of Winona: Pt 2 of 2

****

I.

Emile chased the ovate piece of fruit out the crease of the heavy door and watched with a pounding heart as it casually rolled off the top of the cement stairs. He nibbled on his pink nails a moment, considered what Remi would do to him and continued his bounding descent as the grape swirled around tantalizingly in the moving rain water heading straight for the sewer by the road where most bad beverage and liquids ended up. The big brown rat gave his muzzle a scrunch and skittered across the long, dank alleyway when he saw something that made his heart skip a few more beats then before. She was small, scared and helpless.

He gasped loudly - but not because the grape had entered the gaping hole leading straight to the sewage system but because the little, light brown rat was about to be trampled on as she held up a coupon to keep the rain off. Reacting on whim and decision both, Emile shot out into the fray of large shoes and falling drops. She moved away from him as he scurried over to her side, startled. But as a shoe was about to come down on them and the rat held out his paw with a determined look, the female rodent blinked and allowed him to take her.

"Let's go!" He swung her on his back and scampered back the way he had come.

They moved from the cold, bleak world of the outside into the bright, noisy atmosphere of the restaurant kitchen. Emile noticed his charge was shivering violently and had her brown - blonde fur soaked against her body. He caught her around the arms and rubbed them in a instinctive reaction to her plight. When he saw this wouldn't be enough, Emile noticed the metallic cover to the dish washer being lowered by Leonard and steered her over that way.

The rat met Emile's eyes at the top and gave the little rat beside him a skeptical look.

"Do it." his friend told him.

Leonard nodded slightly and pushed the lever down.

Both Emile and the girl rat - who had astoundingly dark blue eyes - looked to one another. He held her to him and felt the hot steam rise around them. When the cover rose, their fur was warm and sticking up on end. The rogue rodent leveled her gaze to the top of Emile's head, where a column of wet spikes stood up on his head going back. He let his mouth fall open and looked at her worriedly, but she only touched her own and giggled softly at that.

"To whom do I have the pleasure of crediting my rescue to?"

"Emile." the round rat smiled widely as his friends draped a large blanket around them.

"I'm Winona." She smiled back.

He chuckled now and took her hand in a sweep of his paw. "Bonjour mademoiselle."

Winona developed a deeper interest in her eye. "Bonjour monsieur."

Everyone - including Linguini, Colette and Emile's brother and father - watched them.

However, neither one noticed.

To be continued…


	3. Remember to rat  cycle!

**I.**

The French landfill rose from all corners of the ground area with a big, bright blue horizon that soared over it with a vast array of possibilities that bared testimony to the wonders of limitless opportunity and ingenuity. That was, at least, how Emile viewed all the junk as he and thirty of his ratty buddies surveyed the area. He turned to them, a smile on his muzzle.

On his signal, the group divided up into two teams of fifteen. One went to search out piles of trash and debris while the other went to pillage the recycle bins. Leonardo took the lead for the team that was searching out the recycling plant and arriving receptacles while team Emile took their time with combing around for bottles, cans and other useful supplies. And his team, of course, indulged a little by returning to their rat roots. When noontime arrived the two teams met back at a garbage truck heading down to Remi's restaurant with twenty small blue recycle bins filled to the brim with materials for Emile's secret, rag - tag project.

"Psst, hey, Emilster," Leonardo held up an old empty tomato can with a long piece of old white thread connecting to another old can, "You gonna tell us what this is all for buddy?"

Emile sank back onto a small pile of trash him and the others shared, nibbling an old pair.

"That's a big N. O. , good buddy." He said into his end, laughing a bit.

**ooo**

As the sun had shifted several paces of it's course across the sky to near mid - afternoon, a lone figure appeared before an unoccupied mouse trap. Raising and moving the old metal nail file above his head so that it gleamed a little in the light, Emile reared back and threw it like an expert marksman so that it caught and activated the simplistic trap. With a sharp snap the tiny square of cheddar flew from it's cold wired clutches and into the rat's paws.

"Ha - ha!" Emile held it up in victory. That's when he noticed a family of mice watching.

The sweet taste of said victory became a tad bitter.

He bunched his forehead in realization and looked down at the suddenly meager piece of food sitting in his pink palm. Sighing softly, the brown rat was about to hand it over when a tap to his shoulder revealed that his friends were behind him - and with a giant sign that said 'Cheese Factory - Liquidation Sale'. Emile nodded an impressed nod, tossed the little piece away casually and motioned for them to roll a whole wheel of Swiss cheese over to the foursome. They gave little cries of cheer and ran over to embrace him; Emile smiled at this, pecked Winona on the cheek as she came to stand by his side and took off a big bite.

"What can I say?" He spoke with his mouth full. "I have a _well - rounded_ personality."

She rolled her eyes and propped his lower mouth up to close it.

**ooo**

Everyone who'd had their day off previously worked well into the night with stocking up an old shed building full of bottles, bags and other odds and ends. Emile stood well out of the way as he guided everyone in from the outer wing by the opened left shed door, using a pair of light green garnishes to keep the process going when suddenly he saw that some of his friends were stumbling under the weight of a sack of yeast. Grimacing worriedly, he fled from his post and caught the end that was about to collapse, relieving those under fire.

As soon as the next to last bag was in, Emile hurriedly rushed those who were still gasping for breath over to take a cup of grape juice and some cheese. He peered up and saw most of his friends were exhausted and panting heavily, making him knot his big brow and stare down at the ground in guilt. A hand touched his shoulder and he looked up to see Winona looking into his dark brown eyes reassuringly with her deep blue ones. He smiled warmly.

"Thanks, dear."

She giggled. "No problem. Now," the small rat skittered in front of him and the others. "I think all we need to gather are grapes, right?" she said in a loud, in charge voice, turning to the others who nodded and then to Emile who did also, surprised by her assertiveness.

"Come on, everybody." He brought up the rear and motioned them over one shoulder to follow him to a new place just down the block. "I know Remi's opposition," Emile made little quotations with his fingers, creating a ruckus of laughter from everyone. "to stealing food. But this is about a fine wine tavern and bringing back garbage as a delicacy. It 'aint no La Ratatouille moral - of - the - week story. Now, come one! WHO'S WITH ME?"

The rats began to cheer loudly at the round rat's declaration and in a swarm the small but resilient pack swarmed to the Italian restaurant like starving locusts. Emile, Leonard, their rather muscular brother Bruno and Winona led the way to the tall private fence that rose a concerning height of over seven feet. Their ratty inspirer received a fist to the forearm for stalling by Leonardo before he chuckled slightly and scaled a brown plank to the very top.

His nerves were quickly replaced by a sense of esteem as the rat surveyed the many swaths of grape vines draping down and along a large grape arbor encompassed on three sides by the privacy fence. With the sun starting to peek over the night - shed horizon, deep colors of royal purple, light olive green and dark crimson materialized from a brief haze of bright yellow daybreak. Emile rubbed his paws together excitedly, grinning from whisker to whisker.

"Uh, Emile." Leonardo's suddenly hesitant voice reached his ears.

"Yeah, guys, wha-?" When he turned he saw that all the rats that had joined him most of the day yesterday weren't following him. "What's wrong everybody?" he asked, clueless.

Their heads turned together as one over at a familiar sight one block down.

_La Ratatouille _stood tall, proud and strangely foreboding as the shadows of night faded.

"Guys…" Emile looked from hand to hand at the thought of working alone before he took a deep breath and released it with his arms dropping to his sides. "Go on, I'll be fine here."

Their bodies turned in the direction of the restaurant but they didn't budge.

"Go." He waved them on. "Really, it's okay. I don't want you to get in trouble."

"_Emile_?" Leonardo spoke up after a moment as the rats murmured amongst themselves.

"We don't want you getting into trouble either." Bruno told him.

The rats didn't move.

"Go." Emile said deliberately.

Sadly, but with a promise to the other rats and Remi, they all took off… most of them.

Emile watched as she motioned him with her two paws. He started, retreated and finally motioned the small rat to leave him be with his palms directed at her. Winona widened her eyes at him telling her to go, but he insisted anyway, not wanting her to be on the streets. As the sun started scaling the skyline of France, she shook her head slightly and left Emile. The urge to go after Winona was strong but the sweet aromas of grapes caught his scent.

To be continued…

____

~Lavenderpaw~


	4. Through the grapevine: Pt 1 of 3

****

**I.**

Emile journeyed down the fence from which he had stood perched upon and, noticing a wood - paneled basket turned over on it's side, hopped onto the top of it and began to manuver it over to where the start of the first arbor was. Upside down triangles draping from all sides fueled his motives as he scampered down into the basket and took better control of it as he wheeled it to the arbor post adjacent with the next arbor. The rotund rat made his way up eagerly to the very top of the wooden structure so as to view all of his surroundings better. Underneath his foot paws, the inviting clumps seemed to bristle.

He rubbed his paw hands together, rubbing at his chin in wonder on how he could obtain all of the fruit before the shop owners of the Italian resturant arrived. Emile was suddenly nervous enough to turn around and try to go after and persuade his friends to return and help him when a grape snapped loose under his foot. The rat flailed his arms back as more grapes dropped down onto the ground before he finally had to throw his girth to the side.

"W - _wh - _huh?" He managed to stop himself and peer down with wide, brown eyes as an entire body of fruit was dispensed accidentally into the wide basket below. "Well, okay..."

With a crack of his knuckles, Emile started going at a downwards spiral. The high - rising stomps made him work a little harder then he was used to yet this in turn led to grapes by the vine loads being shucked successfully into the wooden basket. He began having a ball of a time with going from clump to clump, kicking off grapes and going in random zig - zags.

Once the large corner of the arbor was bare, Emile excitedly scaled down the squared post and scampered toward a broomstick and an old boot with the intention of pulverizing all of his little treasures. A ball of twine and scissors caught his eye as he went straight to work.

**ooo**

She watched him with soft, dreamy eyes. The other mice - who questioned Winona for not only being around a rat but pretending to be one as well - were gathered below her. What they didn't realize was that the blonde mouse didn't care about appearances or what kind of species her friend was. Emile had streaked from out of nowhere and saved her life; She had been running away, unhappy with the poverty and limited lifespan that came with her being a mouse. The idea that there was another way of life hadn't yet dawned on Winona.

It hadn't even seemed possible at first. A rodent with a safe home and safe food?

But Emile had stuck by her for all the months she had been there.

Now it was her turn.


	5. Through the grapevine: Pt 2 of 3

**I.**

As Emile attached the worn out boot onto the broom handle, a scurrying horde of brown and blonde mice raced up and over the privacy fence to where the grapes had been neatly shucked into the large half barrel. The rat didn't notice anything as Winona and the other rodents began jumping up and down; he wrapped the twine as tightly as he could around the wood end with the boot laces intertwined into it. When Winona noticed that her ratty friend was about ready to turn around, she motioned everyone out. They scattered in all directions - even to the side of Emile which he remained oblivious to; and disappeared.

Winona remained at the top of the fence a moment, smiled slightly, and vanished too.

**ooo **

"W - w - _how_?" He scratched at his head as he examined the purple - red liquid inches from crowning the top of the half barrel. Emile reached his finger down and dipped it inside, pulling back he sucked on it for a few moments before developing a wide grin.

Laughing out loud, Emile did a jack knife dive into the magically crushed fruit juice. It was as if the universe _wanted _Emile to do this when all the while he had been so unsure. His arms raised up and back as he made a few laps around the barrel, finally stopping to taking a breath and make his way to the center. As Emile admired the work that had been done, he realized something. It was not the oddity of how the grapes had been pulverized.

It was not even the fact that something or someone had helped him.

It was…

'Remi.' He thought guiltily.

**II.**

"Where, where, _where _is he!.?" the rat chef exploded to some of the workers around him.

"Relax, boss." One of his younger brothers said. "Emile's probably just up to something."

"Yeah… right." Remi said almost absentmindedly, sarcastic in tone. "Eating up his own weight in Catawba grapes again." he looked once and then did a double - take as he saw his brother carrying a big wooden half barrel around the corner of his restaurant a block away. He shook his head in disbelief that Emile was causing him to lose clientele. Was feasting on tasteless pieces of fruit more important then working at the family business?

"Uh, Remi," the rat from before had his head in the doorway. "you might want t-,"

"Hold the fort down." He cut him off quickly, narrowing his eyes. "I've got business to take care of." Ready for a meeting with his brother, the gray rat took off to intercept him.

"Remi!" Emile grinned with his crooked teeth showing. "What brings you here?"

"Oh, I dunno, the view, the city lights, the fact that this is_ my restaurant!_"

The round rat winced at the fairly snarled out last words. "Right, forgot that part."

"Emile, what are you doing!.? We've got tables filling up, orders overfilling and a whole inventory assignment that _should _have been fulfilled by you on your day off." Remi took a half a moment to register the crushed look on his brother's face before releasing a sigh.

"Remi…" His brown eyes darted from side to side. "I-,"

"_Just,_" the smaller rat looked away and gestured at him in reprimanding. "stop living up to your name, E_meal, _and try to get your work done. You're working graveyard tonight."

Emile staggered under the weight of the barrel. "But, Remi - ,"

"Just do it Emile!" He called over his shoulder in agitation, rolling his eyes.

"I - I _can't_ work graveyard tonight!"

"Well, someone's gotta do it and you already have today's duties on top of that."

"I can't." Emile said again, this time more firmly.

Remi paused, considered, then turned slowly on his heel. "It's… you _can't_ or you _won't_ Emile." he said to the rodent, his gaze even. "This is what a brother does for his brother."

"But, I -,"

"What's it gonna be Emile?"

There was an agonizing moment where Emile considered his brother and then considered the large barrel of grape extract over his head, barely being balanced. When his conflicted eyes met Remi's they were unsympathetic and demanding. He released a quiet breath and lowered the barrel down on the ground. Silently, Emile followed his older brother into _La Ratatouille_. The barrel, itself, was retrieved by unseen forces and taken to a stocked shed.

**III.**

As dawn broke in two periwinkle blue swatches across the sky, Emile sat watching from his place at the center of the arbor where empty grape vines were bereft of their splendors. The early morning was still illuminated by night's citywide lantern, filling his senses with golden - orange light. Before the rat's eyes could wander to the towering structure, lit by a thousand lights it seemed, his gaze feel to two deep blue eyes that twinkled in a big smile.

Emile smiled big as well. "Winona." he spoke in happy relief.

To be continued…

~ Lavenderpaw ~


	6. Through the grapevine: Pt 3 of 3

****

I.

Winona smiled as she examined the limited space that was available between herself and Emile. He also beamed and gave the grape vine a little jolt so that she was bounced down to him. The little rat looked him in the eyes and leaned over to kiss his round cheek.

"Wait-wait-wait-wait." Emile motioned with his paws palm up.

A pile of grapes appeared from beneath where he sat suddenly as Emile lifted his bottom up and retrieved six of them. The rat gave her a wink before starting to juggle them in an effort that appeared panicky but without practice. Winona became bewildered as he acted like a vacuum and sucked the grapes up into his cheek pockets. Emile blinked and then a fruit-toothed smile appeared on his face; She smiled wilily before taking his big muzzle.

"Uh… Wy-non-uh, what are you…?"

Emile's attention was directed to look down at her red-rimmed waist.

"Whait uh minit," He kept speaking with his mouth full, "Yer tha won who-"

Winona squished both his lumpy cheeks together so that the grapes were crushed.

"You talk too much." She said as she twirled a strand of his brown fur in her little claw.

He swallowed the juice in his mouth. "Yeah?" he pulled her closer to him. "Guess what?"

The rat giggled. "What?"

"You talk about everything _just _right… oh wait, that didn't come out right."

Winona snuggled into his side and slipped a white card behind his ear.

"Just promise me one thing." She said as the sun was peeking up over the horizon.

"Anything, babe."

"You won't give up your dream."

Emile was quiet a moment, the shadows of nighttime began falling behind them.

"Emile?"

"I promise, Winona." He rested against her, hoping she didn't feel his doubt. "I won't."

A winery?

Right. Like that would ever happen with Remi running the town.

It was '_Paris, baby!' _Emile remembered sadly; and Paris was _Remi's_town. Not Emile's.

****

II.

__

Washington state, an abandoned vineyard…

A phone ringing in the distance stirred a sleeping tabby.

"Mm…" He moaned and tossed restlessly. "Just give me a minute, Mom. I don't want the cat toy, I…" the phone continued to ring. "No-no-no, the wine bottle goes on the left next to Chardonnay. Keep the Semillon well fermented, yeah, yeah that's right. More yeast…"

By now the ringing had persisted to a louder, more irritating volume.

"Wha-what?" the cat got to his feet and hopped atop the old work table in his old owner's shed building. He flipped over the wired phone. "Hi, hello! Bobert Warfington Cattan the III of the Warrington Vineyard." Though he spoke the truth, they had sold out months earlier.

"Hello, Bob."

"Nonie!" He rejoiced as he spoke into the upturned ear piece. "Where you callin' from kid?"

"Paris… France."

"You and your folks are out there? Why you're just mice!"

"Listen to me, I found someone who shows promise with wine."

Bob titled his head thoughtfully. "And just _who _might that be?"

"He's a rat."

"How is he taking to a mouse like you, kid?"

"He… doesn't know. His name is Emile and he has good inclination towards alcohol."

"Well," the tomcat chuckled deep in his throat. "Put him on the line when you can."

To be continued…


	7. Ingredients for indignation

**I.**

"So what would _you _suggest, Emile?"

"Well, Bob, the cherry with the tinge of garlic is okay but try it with a drop of lemon juice instead. And I mean _fresh _lemon juice. Anything with artifical presvs is a no-go. OK then."

A nose found it's way through the slight opening of the food vault door.

"Yeah, yeah okay Bob, I'll keep that in mind."

Leonard appeared with his hands on his hips and a not-so-satisfied Remi beside him.

"When are you gonna go out to California, kid?" the cat's voice still talked even as Emile eyed his leering brethren. "Uh well, you're in Washington. But-I'm-not-interested-in seein' the-president-so-buh-bye." He dropped the '20's porcelain phone back in it's brass holder.

"Emile."

"Rems."

"How much is it costing _'_us_'_ to make long-distance calls to the United States?"

"Well-,"

"And _why _isn't that corded phone not in the dump WHERE IT BELONGS?" Remi's irritated voice rose to new heights of agitation. But as Emile blathered excuses he only gave a loud groan and waved at him without looking his way. "Forget it. We're not even busy today."

"W-well why is that?"

Remi sighed, feeling like he was speaking to a child. "Because of that new restaurant two blocks down, the Italian one, will you just _try _not to make a mess!" he whirled to face him.

His brother looked upon him with wide eyes.

The rat chef groaned again. "Emile…"

"Hey!" Lenny intervened, his own eyes narrowed. "Enough, Remi. You _'_aint his sitter."

"Well, this _'aint'_ his restaurant." Remi spat back sarcastically.

"Remi, OK, we get it." Emile came to stand beside his friend. "We're a little bummed out because the day is slow. Look, I'll go take the phone out and you won't ever see it again."

His eyes lightened. "Good." he said firmly and took off for the kitchen. "Make sure of it."

"Ugh!" Lenny remarked after the rat left. "Maybe if he showed us some appreciation."

"He's just stressed out…"

"No," the rat turned on his heel to face Emile. "He's just a tyrant who don't even cook his own food anymore." they were joined by several other rats; including a muscle-bound one.

"Yeah, where does he get off slavin_'_ us around." Bruno said.

"It weren't so bad in the beginnin_'_, a little cookin_' _here and endless food everywhere."

"I'm tellin_'_ ya," the big rat continued on with his smaller comrades. "It just_ '_aint the same. Remi's gone and let his success get to his head. Ungrateful if you all know what I mean."

"You know one guy whose got talent and hasn't let it get to his head?" Lenny gestured.

"Who?" Emile touched his chest. "_Me_?"

"You've got somethin_' _special, kid." Bruno agreed.

"Yeah," the fourth rat commented. "A real talent._ '_Specially with that Catawba."

The three of them laughed.

~.~

Things had been slow, Django could admit to that. But his youngest and most oddest son was getting somewhat carried away in his opinion. The rat supervised the middle counters as his family went to work at preparing the delectable delicacies you could only find at the famous bistro _La Ratatouille. _But as Remi came out from the back stockroom Diango noticed that his son had given Emile a hard time… again. He was about to go have a talk with the 'restaurant owner' when he watched the round brown rat who took the brunt of things slip by and head for the outside as Linguini entered; he caught sight of Emile in the rat's haste.

"Hey, Catawba, where're you going?"

Alerted to the fact that his son was _still _sneaking out to drink, Django bunched his muzzle and took off after him. Down a long wooden broom, across the floor past a still gawking Linguini and the rat was on his way to discover once and for all what Emile had been off doing for months now. His large son scampered down the streets of Paris towards a long line stationed outside of the Italian restaurant that he couldn't read. Maybe Remi had had a point with the whole human language. Going through a back alley, Django stopped just behind the fence that blocked his view from the back, ducked down when Emile looked over his shoulder and continued after him as he climbed up it. 'What is that boy doing?'

They crossed the tall, wooden frame that bordered the properties and headed down into a little vineyard that Django noted he had never seen before. He scaled one of the triangular-patterned trestles to watch as his son began to rummage through different ingredients that the staff wasn't using. So _this _was what his boys had been doing - stealing other's ideas so that _La Ratatouille _wouldn't continue to plummet. Django felt a wave of disgust rise in his stomach as Emile took off with a few stolen bottles and ran after him as he started back in the direction of the restaurant. What his son did next completely took him by surprise; the rat didn't go straight for the back door like before but instead went towards an old pantry.

Why would Remi need his brother to hide what he was sending him to steal?

Django maintained pursuit.

To be continued...

~ Lavenderpaw ~


	8. Rat got your tongue Pt 1 of 2

**I.**

The pantry room was stuffy and thick with odors. Django noticed this right away, but the stale smell started to lessen a bit as he moved closer to the back of the small building. Not much attracted the rats in his colony anymore to the city dump, he had to wonder why his less-then-successful son would spend time in one when food was readily available for him.

Determined, the father rat scurried down into a stagnant yet some aroma-filled opening. It turned out that there was an underground basement to the pantry and the further the father rat went the stronger the bittersweet smell grew. Dark walls and dripping pipes lined each side of him as he scurried down a rusted piece of sewer line to where he saw Emile below.

Long stretches of pipes crisscrossed everywhere at the top of the earth. Django watched from above as his son squeezed himself into a wine bottle lying on a lower plateau of old pipelines. The rat then reached his arm out the top of the spout for a white piece of thread.

A fizzle of wine from the dark ceiling foamed down as the bottle fell and collided with the one Emile was inside. The carbonation spewed forth and propelled him into a large metal opening. Django gasped and scurried down to where the pipe that had been full was laced with the white string. He ran his finger along the inside and licked his finger to get a taste.

"Huh… Catawba."

Django looked down at the long slope of what he now saw was a tunnel constructed only of old cans. The rat had to know what his son was up to once and for all. He took picked the green bottle up in his arms and squeezed his huge body inside the spout without ease.

Once he was inside, Django took a breath then proceeded to turn himself around and roll towards the opening. He braced himself against the glass walls of the bottle and made it jump up once. One more roll around and the rat had the spout positioned for the can trail.

"All right… here's goes nothing."

The rat hopped forward and felt himself tilt downwards.

A slippery slope of dark red wine acted as a water slide as it caused him to ride along in a nearly straight line down further into the basement. What Django soon found out was that it was much deeper then a basement. He quickly assumed that he was far enough along in the this underground chamber that he could be near the new Italian restaurant when the rat felt himself tumble down a final drop, become airborne momentarily and end with a smash.

Dripping from head-to-toe in the tasteless substance, Django stood to gather his bearings.

Emile had apparently not head him as he was further down in a small, partially lit room.

"What?" Django said in disbelief, moving towards the end of these pipelines.

To be continued…


End file.
